


photograph you (in this light)

by blackorchids



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Curse Breaking, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Duelling, F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Torture, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Oral Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Second War with Voldemort, Secret Relationship, Semi-Public Sex, Semi-secret relationship, Sign Language, Team as Family, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-10-06 07:56:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17341550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackorchids/pseuds/blackorchids
Summary: Malfoy gave her the pendant in what feels like a lifetime ago, and until they find him, it’s all she has to mark the existence of their relationship at all.





	photograph you (in this light)

**Author's Note:**

> this was written for the 2018 [Smutty Claus](https://smutty-claus.livejournal.com/) exchange over on LJ, and the person it was intended for backed out, so it ended up being gifted to the community. hope you guys over here like it too!!
> 
> title from adele's _when we were young_

Hermione wakes up suddenly, drawn from sleep with nothing more than a more or less silent intake of breath. She doesn’t move or open her eyes, automatically taking stock of where she is and what she can hear before she remembers she’s back in the ministry safehouse and she’s relatively okay.

Her watch reads half past three in the morning, but the safehouse is alight with activity, and Hermione swings her legs off the cot and pulls her jeans on straight over her sleep shorts, shrugging on a sweater as she crosses the room she shares with a few other girls. She’s not the only one going down the stairs, and Dean shoots her a worried look as they take the steps two at a time, easily catching up to Lavender and Henrick, who are hovering on the last landing between the upper floors and the basement kitchen so common in older wizarding houses. 

Hermione tucks her pendant into her jumper and pushes past the pair of them, allowing Lavender to grab ahold of her hand and squeezing it firmly in reassurance even as she steps out of the darkened hallway and into the dim light of the kitchen. Kingsley and Jeb are talking to each other in low, haggard voices, Jeb’s entire left sleeve bloodied and torn. Behind them is Charlie, hovering with two cloaked figures and, for just a moment, Hermione’s heart is in her throat as the idea of having been infiltrated flashes through her mind.

Before she can even blink, though, she reminds herself that if they were in danger, Kingsley wouldn’t be reprimanding Jeb for giving jokey answers to his security questions, and that’s about when the occupants of the kitchen notice Hermione and, by extension, the rest of them, still mostly concealed in the hallway.

“Brown, please help this idiot,” Kingsley says to Lavender, expression weary, and she nods, pulling her long hair into a lopsided knot at the crown of her head before adjusting her grip on her wand and telling Jeb to brace himself.

Dean’s already debriefing with Kingsley and Henrick is rooting through the icebox to find something for their new housemates to eat, so Hermione scoots past Jeb and Lavender, scoffing when the former winks at her, and makes her way over to Charlie and his guests, slowing her pace when she recognizes the sharp cheekbones and slightly upturned nose of Pansy Parkinson.

Next to her is Narcissa Malfoy, but Hermione has long been an expert at concealing her expressions and her thoughts, so she simply looks over the pair of them clinically, noting that Lavender may have some more work to do when she realizes that Narcissa is favoring one foot over the other, though the woman hides it well.

“What have you brought us, Charlie?” She asks, and he grins, looking exactly like the rest of his brothers in that moment, and Hermione finally reaches him, reaching out and hugging him tight enough that he grunts.

“Hostages, I assume,” says Henrick, ushering the pair of them into chairs at the cracked kitchen table and spooning out thick stew into two bowls. Parkinson lifts her eyebrow at his comment, but neither woman deigns to complain about the meal and Henrick nods approvingly when they start eating.

“I’d call them refugees,” Charlie says, smirking at the sharp look he gets from Narcissa, “But I have the feeling _renegades_ is more fitting.”

“Is this what took you so long?” Hermione asks him and he shrugs.

“I wasn’t about to leave them.”

There’s a pause where most of the room wait for Pansy to say something against their _bleeding heart Gryffindor_ mindset, but she keeps on eating, looking for all the world like she’s not paying attention.

Hermione knows better, though, can see the spark in her eyes and the curve of her cheek that suggests she’s fighting—badly—down some unknown expression. She would almost agree, but for all the war has hardened her and her friends, she doubts many of them wouldn’t have done the same.

Jeb swears, loudly, and everyone looks sharply over at him and Lavender, who’s gripping his arm and looking unapologetic.

“No spell works as good as some elbow-grease,” she says, carelessly tossing out a muggle phrase she must’ve picked up from Hermione or Dean at some point. She taps her wand against the curve of Jeb’s shoulder and he stops complaining, releasing a full-bodied shudder before extending and retracting his arm, looking impressed.

“Nice job, luv,” He says, and Lavender, too, scoffs at him, stepping away and heading towards the cupboards, likely to look for something salty to chew on. She finds a mostly-empty bag of salted meats and takes it with her as she, Dean, and Henrick leave the kitchen without so much a by the bye acknowledgement of Charlie, or his turncoats.

Charlie must be able to tell that Hermione wants to talk, because he claps both women on the shoulder, one hand lingering on Narcissa’s in a way that has Hermione’s eyebrows shooting up and Pansy smirking at her recognition, before he follows her out of the kitchen and up the nine stairs into the mostly-destroyed study.

-

Charlie’s unexpected guests or not, life goes on in safe house number two-thirty-seven, and Mrs. Malfoy and Parkinson seem to be more or less on their best behavior, restraining any snotty comments and hardly even raising a judgemental eyebrow or two. The raids continue, the battles continue, and Order members are in and out all the time. Hermione and Paladar go on a stealth mission that takes them ten days, searching for the illusive fourth Horcrux and any information on rebirth and bloodlines. Paladar touches a cursed door knocker and Hermione spends two nights frantically checking her temperature and heart rate until she manages to overthrow the curse that had been trying to settle into the girl’s lungs, and the exhaustion of so much intensive magic use has the pair of them struggling to finish their assignment.

When they return, too tired to be triumphant, cursed necklace sharing neckspace with Hermione’s pendant and Hermione’s ankle in a shoddy brace, Harry is at two-thirty-seven and arguing with Charlie.

“Harry!” Hermione blurts, unwilling to wait for him to settle down. He looks as happy to see her as she feels, and he sweeps her up in a hug so tight that her ribs want to protest, but she can scarcely make herself let go from where she’s clutching him so tight he _must_ have bruised.

“I’ve been putting off leaving for as long as I can, but I hoped to see you,” he tells her after he greets Paladar and swears when he notices Charlie’s hastened away in his distraction. Hermione can’t seem to let go of him all the way, and his gaze is kind and understanding behind his age-old round glasses, and Hermione knows he’ll have to leave soon enough. The three of them would always be the best of friends, but they weren’t the ultimate team anymore, and Harry had to go back to training his Hogwarts dropouts, making them fit for Ron to lead them to battle.

“See you soon,” Hermione says to him, after the pair of them have murmured a few updates back and forth right there on the front steps of the house, and he presses a dry kiss to her temple before reaching into his pocket and slowly unwrapping the little toy soldier he always uses as a portkey.

Hermione watches him fold into the atmosphere, gone again, and only takes a second to steel herself before she goes inside to update the rest of the house.

When she gets to the study, Paladar is ignoring the room full of people with ease, flipping through one of the two books they’d found in the mostly burnt-down Nott Manor. She looks up at Hermione’s entrance, though, and the room mostly quietens down, and Hermione makes herself slip back into her current self—the confident, war-weathered woman she’s learned to be instead of the know-it-all, idealistic girl she’d been.

She talks about what they’d learned before the manor had abruptly burst into flames, brushes over Paladar’s cursing, discusses who will take on the task of deciphering the coded, hand-written books, painstakingly goes over the list of Death Eaters she’d recognized and describes the few she hadn’t.

Hermione does not mention that she’d heard mention that the kidnapped Malfoy heir was still alive, and, though Narcissa is clutching Charlie’s wrist so tightly his hand is starting to turn, the rest of her posture and expression is utterly calm. Narcissa stares down the pendant that Hermione had forgotten to tuck into her shirt and does not ask.

-

Justin casts the silencing spells on all eight boots, and Israel catches Ernie’s eye and nods towards the left corridor, leaving the right side of the fork for Hermione and Finch-Fletchley to explore. Ron had caught wind that some death eater houses had children imprisoned in them and near anyone who wasn’t on a mission had been assigned a place to raid and empty out. 

It was slow work—not only did the Order not have the manpower to raid every house simultaneously, but it happened to be just about impossible to break into an old pureblood manor without being caught—but a handful of children had already been found, which only egged everyone on.

Justin does the hand-signs for wait and gestures silently at the staircase a few meters away, and Hermione gives him a nod, follows him down the stairs and swallows tightly when she realizes the odd shadows are because the basement is a long hall of archaic prison cells.

It’s silent, but she meets Justin’s eyes and knows he’s in agreement: that they’re going to check each cell before they go back up. Hermione casts a dim lumos and they make their way down the aisle quietly, shining the light into each of the cells, choking on the stale dampness of the air, looking away at how some of the cells have more recent-looking shoes and, in once instance, blood.

Each of them that they pass is empty, though, which is why, when they’re at the second-to-last cell, Hermione’s heart practically falls through her sternum when her tiny lumos reveals a body. A fully-grown body with a head of filthy, matted, _familiar_ white-blonde hair.

Justin startles, and she covers his mouth with one hand before he makes a noise, and he collects himself, nodding. Hermione waits for him to pick the ironically muggle padlock and then gestures for him to check the final cell while she goes to inspect Malfoy’s prone body.

Cold fingertips press to the crook of his neck under his jaw and his skin is so, so hot, his heartbeat rapidfire. He’s scarcely breathing, and the curse is similar enough to the one Paladar had caught that Hermione is fairly sure she can take care of it.

When Justin comes back, he makes the hand-sign for all-clear and she makes one to tell him to help her.

Justin has not had the pleasure of getting used to two-thirty-seven’s slowly growing collection of Slytherin renegades, so he gives her a disbelieving look that she quells with a look of her own. He fingerspells out Y-O-U-R-F-U-N-E-R-A-L and then squats down to help her heave Malfoy’s body up, showing her how to help him get the man on his back. They slowly, make their way back up the hall and up the stairs, taking care to not make any noise with their extra passenger and when they find Ernie back at the rendezvous spot, he’s alone, which means they’d found a child and Israel’s already gone back.

Ernie knows better than to start an argument while still in an enemy lodging spot, so he just helps Justin shift Malfoy’s body so they can touch the portkey to the man’s wrist and send the four of them hurtling into the atmosphere.

Safe house six-forty-one is deserted when they land, stumbling, on the grass out front, and Hermione tells Ernie to get in contact with Lavender or Susan for healing purposes and Charlie or Kingsley for security clearance before helping Justin carry Malfoy inside and wincing when he all but drops the man on the kitchen table, causing the thing to rock back and forth precariously for a moment.

Malfoy’s cheeks are gaunt and when Hermione disposes of the grimy shirt on his back for better access to his chest, she can see the impression of every rib he has. It had been agonizing to clear out Paladar’s curse all those months ago, and they’d caught it early on. Banishing Malfoy’s would be impossible.

Justin sets water to boil and hustles out to find some linens and candles they can use and Hermione takes a deep breath and begins.

-

The house is asleep when Malfoy’s fever finally recedes. His breathing becomes less laboured and his eyes flutter open, and, immediately, he lifts one shaky hand to thumb at what used to be his family ring, melted down and hanging from a chain around her neck, swinging above him as she pants with sheer exhaustion.

He closes his eyes once more.

-

The Order does safe-house bouncing, abandoning the ones they’d been using for the past few months and moving into new ones, to keep any leads death eaters might have as cold as the weather is becoming. Hermione misses rooming with Lavender and allows a tiny, real smile to curl her mouth up when she thinks about how her younger self would’ve reacted to that thought.

Order safe house number one-twenty-eight is small, cramped, and way too crowded, but the bigger, nicer ones, are being used for the members who have taken the responsibility of looking after all of their rescued children, forming routines and already discussing some sort of schooling.

She sees Ron every few days now, and it’s so nice to sit and talk with him, and once in a rare while, Ginny, heavily pregnant now, comes and visits, and Hermione misses her something fierce when she has to leave again. Battles and raids continue, and it is hard to remember the normalcy of going to school and having exciting summer holidays as a child. War is her life now.

Malfoy is not assigned to the same safe house.

It’s fine.

-

Hermione all but leaps into Dean’s arms when she finally sees him again, laughing joyously and not even getting that annoyed when he plants a palm atop her head and ruffles her hair.

“How have you been?” she asks him, swishing and flicking her wand to clear the other end of the couch that she’s been spreading all of her notes and research on. He nudges the cover of the book in her hand, which is not for research, laughter in his eyes as she scowls at him for show.

“Clearly not as well of as you,” he teases, but Dean lets it go and catches her up with everyone that he’s seen recently that she hasn’t, and then she returns the favour, talking battles and gossip in the same sentences. They share silences when they talk about who’s been lost, and Dean smiles when Hermione tells stories about Harry and Ginny’s sweet little James.

Downstairs, she’s sure a few others are also sharing the brief moment of happiness at seeing friends again, but Dean’s already looking through her notes and asking questions, bouncing ideas off of her and getting her back into the research mindset.

It’s not until much later that the occupants of the house all convene in the kitchen for hot sandwiches and soup, and Hermione finally sees who else has come to visit. Under the table, Malfoy’s foot touches hers, and she traps him between her ankles, torn between taking pleasure in the simple happiness that he’s back, and encouraging the playful glint in his eye.

Dinner is a long, loud affair, and the lot of them drink maybe more than they should and war may be their lives now, but it has not stolen from them their livelihood. Dean hangs back to help Ursula clean up, and Thomas and Ben go to sit out on the tiny porch, clutching bottles of Nightwine, and Padma and Israel head up the rickety stairs, giggling and holding hands, and Hermione heads back to the study and is straightening out her abandoned notes when Malfoy’s hands curl around her hips.

She leans back into him, half arching half snuggling, and he tilts his head to kiss her cheek bone and the spot by her ear and close to her jawline before she finally turns around.

Draco knows what she wants, lets her hug him tight before she finally pulls away slightly to whisper a needlessly shy _hi_.

“Hi,” he intones back, bringing up a hand to thumb at her lower lip, and Hermione has _missed_ him, is tired of only seeing passing glimpses of him on the off chance that they’re both in the same safehouse for a debriefing, but— “That door doesn’t lock.”

“We’ll be quick,” he murmurs, kissing down her neck and leading her towards the far wall.

“Not too quick,” she teases, and is rewarded with a sharp nip of his teeth against the join of her collarbones that has her gasping, his tongue soothing the sting almost before she registers the pain at all.

The few bottles of butterbeer she’d had have her feeling warm all over and the rare happenstance of having him with her for more than a few moments is making her feel lighter than any alcohol ever could, and when he presses her against the wall, crowding her in and overwhelming her in the best way, she can’t help but groan.

Draco moves his hand from her jawline to her hair and uses his grip on it to tug her head back a little, growling slightly when she only arches into him more. “None of that, baby,” he whispers, mouth still too close to her neck for her to give his words her full attention. “We have to be quiet.”

But he cants his hips against hers and she whines a little too loud anyway causing him to tug at her hair harder, stilling until she looks at him.

“If you can’t be quiet,” he tells her, nudging her thighs open with his knee so she has something to rut against. “I can give you something to occupy your mouth.”

Hermione grinds down on him hard at that and then, meeting his gaze challengingly, groans again, mostly for show.

Draco steps away from her and tugs her away from the wall, pushing down on her shoulders until she’s kneeling in front of him.

Palming his cock through his slacks, he tells her to take off her jumper, and his heated gaze on her breasts has her nipples pebbling in her thin bra.

“Unzip my pants for me, baby,” he says, and his praise when she does it rushes through her like fire. “Take daddy out and give him a sweet little lick.”

Hermione has barely gotten from root to head when he’s fisting his hand in her hair again and pulling her mouth over him. She puts her hands on her knees where she knows he likes them and relaxes her throat enough that when he pushes her head down she only gags a little.

“Yeah, you like the way daddy chokes you with his cock,” he says, keeping his voice pitched low so as to avoid catching anyone’s attention but unable to stop running his mouth. “Look at you, just taking it.”

He pulls out until just the head is pressing into her cheek and slaps at it a few times, not hard enough to leave a mark, but enough that her cheek feels a little warm with it, and she can’t help but groan again, which has him pulling her back down.

“You like it so much you can’t stop making those noises,” he tells her, “Just begging for it—I bet you’re soaking.”

Hermione mumbles her agreement around his cock and he pushes her head down a little farther until her nose is buried in the nest of curly blonde hair at the base of his cock.

“Can you touch yourself for daddy?” He asks her and she’s so eager that she fumbles with the button on her jeans a few times, which makes him laugh, deep and throaty and fond. She moans again and he pulls out to let her breathe. “Show me how wet you are.”

Hermione gets a hand in her panties and just cups herself for a moment, until Draco slaps her again. She bypasses her clit and gathers the slick leaking out of her, dampening her panties and likely showing through her jeans at this point, circling her fingers around her clit a few times until she’s panting before she pulls her hand back out to show him.

Draco leans down and takes her fingers into his mouth, tasting her, and Hermione burns with pleasure. He gets a hand back in her hair and pulls her back down on him without warning and she has to force her throat to relax and breathe through her nose as he guides her head up and down, using her.

He notices that her hand is back in her pants, her other one toying with her nipple and groans himself, rutting up a little too hard and sweeping a quick apologetic thumb across her cheekbone. “Yeah, bet you could get off just like this, so wet just from me fucking your mouth baby, fucking your hand like a whore while I use your throat—”

Hermione comes suddenly, panting and on fire, and Draco groans and hauls her up, pressing her stomach against the wall and struggling to get her too-tight jeans down her thighs far enough that he can get his hands around her hips and pull them back just enough that he can push his way inside, giving her no time to adjust before he’s pumping full, deep strokes, one hand at her waist and the other around her so he can play with her breasts, Hermione’s face pressed against the wall as she pants, her voice hitching with every stroke. He’s still running his mouth, voice too low for her to hear as she swims in the haze of sex, feeling filled up, sparks coiling low in her belly.

Draco doesn’t stop for her when she comes on his cock, just moves his free hand from her breast to her mouth so he can muffle her cry of pleasure. He’s fucking her hard now, searching for his own release, over-stimulated shocks running down her spine and finally he stiffens and groans her name, pushing in deep and curling over her bare back.

They stay like that, Hermione shirtless and pressed against the wall, for a long moment, and when she comes back to herself she can hear voices one flight of stairs below. Draco must hear them too, because he startles away from her—but not before pressing a tiny kiss to the nape of her neck.

They re-adjust themselves in dead silence, and he brushes his thumb over her wrist’s pulse-point before he leaves the study, handing her one of her books on his way out.

**Author's Note:**

> cross posted over on [LJ](https://smutty-claus.livejournal.com/280854.html)
> 
> come talk to me over on [tumblr](http://www.rosalinesbenvolio.tumblr.com)!


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